In Other Words
by Cleo the Muse
Summary: Jack's always seen, he's just never looked. When an unexpected epiphany sneaks up and bites him, he takes notice. Jack and Daniel preslash.


**In Other Words** by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: Older Kids  
Genre: Pre-Slash, Missing Scene/Epilogue  
Warnings: A little foul language  
Episodes: Takes place just before "The Lost City", and includes spoilers for anything up to that point, including the movie.  
Synopsis: Jack's always seen, he's just never _looked_. When an unexpected epiphany sneaks up and bites him, he takes notice. Jack and Daniel pre-slash.  
Status: Completed as of January 10, 2007

* * *

**In Other Words**

Jack was no stranger to having Daniel stare at him like he'd grown an extra head. Jack with the extra head that is, not Daniel... just in case that wasn't clear. In fact, the "gaping fish" impression made its appearance nearly every time Jack vocalized one of his more peculiar inanities or-even more rare-displayed a propensity for being garrulous _and_ polysyllabic.

That is to say, every time he rambled on with a bunch of big words he not only used properly, but could _also_ define. Actually, Daniel had already become aware of Jack's extensive yet habitually-obscured vocabulary after he'd caught the colonel finishing the Sunday crossword without referencing a dictionary. Jack was pretty sure the usual application of the expression was for the benefit of Carter, Teal'c, or any other on-lookers.

Dumb-founded. Now _there_ was a word to describe the look on Daniel's face, even if it wasn't all that terribly complex a term. "Astonished" wouldn't really work, because astonishment implied surprise in a "oh for me? You shouldn't have" type way, whereas Daniel's current state of... bewilderment... was more like "since when the hell did you decide _this_?"

And the answer to _that_ was this morning: that's when it all started.

Scratch that, it all "started" about eight years back when a certain long-haired geek innocently trashed nearly seventy years' hard work by re-writing an entire blackboard of translations in less than a minute. Jack had _almost_ hated shutting down Catherine Langford's little archaeological Disneyland, if only so he could see what the sneezing genius would make of the great big metal sinkhole the government had been tossing money into off-and-on for more than fifty years.

Almost. It'd been _far_ too fun to watch Doctors Snore and Sneer squirm when they realized that the gag order on the project meant _their_ butts were on the line if they blabbed. And darn if that four-eyed brainiac hadn't gone and figured out the purpose of all the squiggles on that big piece of rock in less than two _weeks_. Jack had to go and take a long drag on his cigarette to keep from laughing at all the dumb-struck faces on the assembled brass in the briefing room.

He couldn't ruin his well-groomed, suicidal hard-ass image by pitching a giggle in front of everyone, after all.

Of course, showing everyone what a brilliant mind he had was the _least _of the crimes of which Daniel could be accused. One of the most heinous acts was when the skinny pacifist bawled him out for packing a nuke along like a planet-sized cyanide pill, then proceeded to throw himself in front of the staff blast that was supposed to have put Jack out of his misery for good.

Instead, Jack wound up even _more _miserable, shivering away the night in waist-deep water and wondering what on Earth or any other planet _he_'d ever done to deserve having his own pathetic life saved at the cost of yet another innocent. Lo-and-behold if the geek hadn't then gone and pulled another rabbit out of his hat and wound up saving Jack's wretched self_ again _by coming back from the dead and taking a poorly-aimed but symbolically effective pot-shot at the over-dressed pedophile claiming to be the local sun god.

Of course that wasn't the half of it. After nearly choking to death in a dust storm-and boy, didn't _that_ bring back some pleasant memories of Iraq?-said genius then proceeded to castigate Jack for his pernicious behavior. And darn if Jack hadn't suddenly felt _guilty_ that he'd come to this oh-so-lovely pile of dirt light-years away from _terra cognita_ to blow up his own sorry self and anyone unlucky enough to be within a few miles of the blast radius.

Or a few _hundred_ miles, given the amount of naquadah in the soil. Heck, he might've taken the whole planet with him, and wouldn't _that_ have been a kick in the pants?

End result, the heroic geek showed everyone that a core of steel lay under that seemingly benign and bumbling exterior, then proceeded to save the world, kill the bad guy, and get the girl of his dreams-and not necessarily in that order. Jack left Abydos with a new outlook on life, thanks to one poorly-socialized orphan who'd finally found a family millions of miles from the planet of his birth.

Admittedly, there wasn't much to go on from those hectic few days on Abydos, but he certainly should have realized something was different when he found divorce papers but no Sara waiting for him at home, and didn't really mind all that much. Well, he missed her like hell, for sure, but it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Instead of dwelling on her absence, he spent the next fourteen months of his re-retirement staring through his telescope at the night sky, trying to figure out which of those tiny points of light shone down on Abydos.

Clue number two should have been how anxious he was-inwardly only, of course-to see if Daniel and the Abydonians were still safe after the 'Gate room got trashed by what later turned out to be Apophis and his Merry Band of Jaffa. So relieved was he to see them well, he had to cover for his near-slip by brushing past Daniel to hug Skaara half to death.

Clue the third should have been when he decided to take the wayward waif back to his house after the kidnapping of Sha're and Skaara. He'd fed Daniel and gave him beer, clothes, the spare bed to sleep in, and a lift back to the base, all just as naturally as breathing.

Clues four through five million came over the next seven years, as Daniel became an integral part of his team, social calendar, and personal life. After the appendix scare, in which Jack discovered Daniel could nearly die on him even in the relative safety of the SGC, the admittedly pig-headed colonel started pushing away his pal, fearful of how important the younger man had become to Jack's own existence. Losing him in battle with some alien enemies wasn't half as frightening as having him slip away on good ol' Mother Earth because his own body rebelled against a vestigial organ. After all, if they were fighting aliens, there was a good chance Jack was going down fighting, too.

So Jack pushed, Daniel pushed back, and next thing they know, Daniel's putting a hand on his shoulder in what looked like a bad re-make of a _Touched by an Angel_ episode and telling him he's ready to throw in the towel. A year later, Jack was set to hug the shit out of his recently-descended friend, only to find out "Arrom" didn't remember a blasted thing, let alone who Jack was or what all they'd been through together. It was easier to keep the cordial distance, then, rather than fighting tooth-and-nail to get Daniel comfortably resituated as the absolute best friend he'd ever had in this world or the next.

That all changed this morning.

Daniel spent the night over at his house because he'd had one beer too many the evening before and _everyone_ knew it didn't take much alcohol to make him giddy. They ate a cold breakfast together, Jack slurping up his Cocoa Puffs and Daniel crunching on the Froot Loops Jack had once jokingly _promised _was the amnesiac archaeologist's favorite cereal. Whether he never remembered otherwise, ate them to humor Jack, or simply decided he liked them after all, Jack would probably never know.

The whole reason Jack had dragged him out of the Mountain the night before was because Daniel was working _entirely_ too hard on a translation from SG-2's recent mission to P3-who-the-hell-cares and needed a brain break... Colonel O'Neill to the rescue! Truth be known, he'd been trying to find a good excuse to get Daniel to stop moping around about the lives he couldn't save-Janet and that weird Goa'uld hybrid, for starters-and just relax for a few hours with his best buddy in the whole wide world, whose life he _had_ saved time and time again.

But the sneak had managed to slip his translation project out with him, and had tried working on it during the Colorado Crush versus Nashville Kats game. As if it wasn't bad enough Jack was forced to watch arena football instead of his beloved NHL-whose season was cancelled due to labor union disputes-here was Daniel whiling away the evening doing _exactly_ what Jack had dragged him _out_ of his office to keep from doing! After he rather vocally threatened the younger man with severe bodily harm (which rapidly degenerated to out-and-out wheedling, if he was honest), Daniel agreed to put the translation away for the rest of the night and get positively plastered.

The most annoying thing was, Daniel rarely _ever_ got a hangover-probably because he couldn't down enough booze to dehydrate-so there he was at six in the morning, poring over his translation between spoonfuls of sugar-coated corn puff rings. Jack couldn't argue, either, as he _had_ promised Daniel could play with his squiggles again in the morning, and all subsequent attempts at distraction were failing. Slurping the milk off his spoon hadn't produced so much as twitch from the concentrating linguist.

And concentrating he was! His expressive brows were furrowed, creating tiny lines of tension in the middle of his forehead while he thought hard about whatever it was linguists thought about when they did their... thing. Jack briefly thought about throwing a Cocoa Puff at him to see if _that_ could distract him, as Daniel was still frowning at the photos and looking all hot and bothered.

That's when it hit him. Bothered wasn't necessarily a good look for Daniel, but he'd _always_ been hot.

Whoa, Nellie! What a revelation _that_ was! He'd just celebrated his fifty-second birthday only a few months back, and the eight-year anniversary of the dissolution of his fifteen-year marriage a month before that, yet here he was kissing his heretofore irrefutable heterosexuality goodbye. One would think he'd have been freaked out that not only was he suddenly _very_ appreciative of Daniel's physical attributes, but that he was also going through some sort of mid-life sexual-identity crisis. To be perfectly honest, he probably would have had difficulty with the idea if it had been some stranger he was lusting over and not his abso-friggin'-lutely _hot_ teammate-slash-best friend.

Which got him to wondering why in the world it was Daniel and not his leggy-blonde 2IC suddenly starring in all his wildest fantasies-not that he'd time for many such delusions during breakfast. That's when he realized there was simply no way he could convince himself it was _Carter_ he'd been longing for, _Carter_'s brilliant blue eyes he kept getting lost in, and _Carter's_ luscious lips he watched raptly in briefings.

Nope. Startling revelation now out of the bag like the proverbial cat, he spent the rest of the meal lost in his _own_ mental meanderings, wondering just when it was the big honkin' Clue Bus ran him over and why it'd taken so long to feel the impact. The tables had been quite firmly about-faced, so it was a concerned Daniel who asked him what had him thinking so hard he looked like he was passing a kidney stone.

Rather than admitting he was starting to get licentious notions about his undeniably masculine teammate, Jack prevaricated with a Teal'c-inspired "indeed". Daniel didn't believe him for a second, but let it slide... for the moment.

_That_, Jack realized, was another thing that separated Daniel from Carter. Besides possessing a complete inability to call Sa-Carter by her given name, he had no problems slipping a little white one by her now and then. She never called him on it if she noticed, simply because she was a good little soldier who did what her commanding officer told her to do. On the flip-side, Daniel was one _hell_ of a warrior, but a crappy soldier when it came to following orders. He was also renowned for his ability to ignore minor untruths until the perfect opportunity to pounce upon and vivisect said lie presented itself.

Basically, a man after his own heart... and now Jack was after his ass.

Which brought him to his present situation. After all the meetings, briefings, and reports were finished for the day, Jack had collected his errant archaeologist once again, this time claiming the evening's Air Force Academy/San Diego State basketball match was not-to-be-missed. He _really_ should have realized Daniel gave in far too easily, but was too ecstatic about spending two nights in a row in the company of his favorite eye candy.

The sneaky civilian waited until his colonel was thoroughly plied with his fourth beer of the evening before calling Jack on the carpet over his obvious ogling. Well, _he_ didn't call it ogling, but Jack had to admit to himself that that's what he'd been doing. Every time he _thought_ Daniel wasn't looking, Jack was sneaking two eyefuls of long, lean linguist. Sleek muscles, slim hips, and the sweetest ass on this plane of existence, Doctor Daniel Jackson was all that _and_ a bag of chips-probably that fancy kind made of weird-colored potatoes and tubers that cost an arm and a leg. They had an exotic flavor the first time he'd tried them, but _boy_ were they addictive.

So was Daniel. When you matched up the gorgeous body with the faster-than-light brain that could fly a hundred circles around Jack before he'd even finished his pre-flight checks, it was no wonder half the galaxy kept trying to get into his pants. Only problem was, Daniel had noticed _Jack_ noticing, and at half-time, stole the remote off the coffee table, pressed the 'mute' button, and turned to face his commanding officer. "What's up?" he asked.

"What do you mean, what's up?"

Daniel gave him his best "I know you better than that, Jack, so stop being an ass" look. "Okay... for starters, you zoned out at breakfast this morning-"

"How would you know? You were busy with those pictures from P3X-302-"

"P3X-439," Daniel corrected automatically, "and I looked up when you stopped slurping your milk to see you holding a Cocoa Puff in your hand like you were about to throw it at me."

Busted. "So?"

"So, you just sat there for a little bit until I made the kidney stone comment-"

Oops. He'd forgotten about _that_.

"-tried to impersonate Teal'c to get out of talking about it. Now, not wanting to make us both late to the mountain-"

Since when?

"-to let it slide at the time. _Then_ you were staring at me in our briefing this morning-"

No, he'd been staring at Daniel's _lips_ while the younger man yammered on about the indigenous proto-something-or-anothers on their mission the week before, wondering what it'd be like to devour that mouth and stick his tongue down Daniel's throat. Then, when the linguist got up to fiddle with the PowerPoint projector, Jack had shifted his attention to Daniel's shapely ass and thought all sorts of dirty things about what he'd like to do to _it_.

"-looking at me tonight, which brings me back to my question: what's up?"

"Damn, you're hot," Jack answered stupidly, which is what earned him the aforementioned dumbfounded expression.

Frankly, it was a cute look for him.

"What?" Daniel managed after coughing to clear his throat.

Open mouth, insert foot... in for a penny, in for a pound... talk about your Freudian slips! And Daniel wouldn't be Daniel if he didn't make Jack answer, so there was simply no use in dragging it out further or denying it. "You're hot," he repeated, still trying to get his rather uncooperative brain to connect with his equally unruly mouth.

"'Hot' as in 'turn on the air conditioner' or 'hot' as in 'feverish'?"

"'Hot' as in 'my libido doesn't need a little blue pill to wake up Mr. Happy'."

Daniel's eyebrows were about ready to merge with his hairline. "What?"

"You heard me."

"How many beers have you had?" he asked suspiciously.

"You know damn well it takes more than three beers to get-"

"That's your fourth."

"Fine. But it also takes more than _four_ beers to get me more than just a buzz, Daniel."

"So you think I'm hot when you're 'buzzed'?"

Jack blew out a puff of air. "I think you're hot when I'm _sober_, too."

Daniel's eyebrows did another dance. "Really."

"Yeah."

"And when did you come to _that_ decision?"

"Uh... this morning?"

Daniel rolled his eyes heavenward. "No _wonder_ you couldn't concentrate on your cereal," he remarked sarcastically.

"As a matter of fact," Jack began, lifting his chin with a mock-haughty air, "I was busy trying to figure out why it took me so damn long to put it all together."

"Put together what?"

"Are you being deliberately obtuse or do you just not have a frickin' clue?"

Daniel's nostrils flared. "What the hell are you talking about, Jack?"

Actions spoke louder than words, and Jack had _always_ been a man of action. Rather than trying to continue to work his mouth around his admittedly alcohol-fuzzed brain, he stood up from the couch, crossed the room in two strides, and put his mouth to work a _totally_ different way.

That sweet, soft mouth was everything he'd ever thought it would be, and the only reason he pulled away at all was because he _did_ need to breathe. He let his hands stay cupped around Daniel's strong jaw, though, gazing into the dazed and confused eyes. "How's that for an answer?"

"What?"

Deciding Daniel needed a refresher, he swooped in and kissed him again. This time, Daniel's hands came up, palms resting against Jack's chest as though to push him away, only he never applied any pressure. When Jack finally came up for air, he curled his fingers around the younger man's wrists. "I spent all damn morning trying to figure out why it took me so long to realize how incredibly sexy you are."

"Sexy?"

"Incredibly," Jack confirmed. "Now I'm trying to decide if the first time I subconsciously noticed was when you showed up Doctors Shrew and Fryer or when you did the same thing to West and the brass."

"Shore and Meyers," Daniel corrected automatically. "Wait a second, I thought you said this morning-"

"-Was the first time I _realized_ I'd been noticing your gorgeous self in a totally non-platonic way," Jack finished.

"Gorgeous?"

"Fishing for compliments again?" the colonel grinned. Daniel's mouth snapped shut and pulled his hands free of Jack's loose grip. "You're handling this surprisingly well, Doctor Jackson."

"That's because you _really_ haven't given me any time to think about it, Colonel O'Neill. What made you think I'd be receptive to-you know-"

"Me kissing you? I dunno. I guess I figured if you didn't like it you could haul off and punch me." He held up his hands in mock-surrender. "You're not going to punch me, are you?"

Daniel's brows knitted. "I haven't decided yet."

"Uh-oh. Do me a favor and warn me first, okay?" Jack grinned, crossing back to the couch and flopping down heavily.

"Like you warned me before you, uh-"

"Kissed you?" Jack finished, taking a swig from his beer. "Seemed like you didn't mind."

"Well, like I said, I haven't really had time to process." Shaking his head, he picked up the remote again, restoring the sound just in time for the start of the second half.

Jack could care less about the game. After all, he'd just admitted to his male best friend that he was in lust with him, and probably not that far gone from being in _love_ with him. He'd loved Daniel for a long time, but there were light years of difference between loving and being _in_ love. He loved Carter and Teal'c too, but he wasn't _in_ love with either of them like he very well could be with Daniel. Getting there, anyway.

A quick glance at Daniel showed that the younger man wasn't paying much attention to the game, either. At the moment, he had his arms crossed in his tightest self-hug, and Jack nervously bit his lip at the implications. Either Daniel was seriously uncomfortable with the situation, or his brain and body were locked down while he thought over Jack's actions. If the latter, there was no telling where his mind would end up taking him.

Sighing, Jack took another long pull from his beer bottle, draining the last drops. If kissing him made Daniel uncomfortable, he only hoped it wouldn't affect the way they worked together in the field. He'd already tried SG-1 without Daniel, and if it came down to it, Jack would retire again, rather than face the prospect of losing him from his team. The Stargate program was Daniel's life, death, and everything in between, and Jack would not put himself in the way.

On the flip side, if his feelings were reciprocated... well, if not for "don't ask, don't tell", he would climb atop Cheyenne Mountain and let all of Colorado Springs know what a lucky guy Jack O'Neill was.

The flash of the TV being turned off was the only warning he had. Suddenly, a firm weight was astride his thighs, callused hands on his jaw, and the sweetest lips in the known universe were on his own. His hands came up, resting on Daniel's hips as the cunning linguist-and how was that for a double-meaning?-proved what a truly talented tongue he possessed.

When Daniel finally came up for air, his eyes were twinkling. "Sorry, I just had to make sure."

"Make sure of what?"

His face broke into a beautiful, gentle smile. "About you... and me."

Jack's heart was turning cartwheels for joy. "So what now?"

Daniel cocked his head to one side. "I don't know. I mean, I've never..."

"Been in a relationship with a guy?"

"Yeah."

"Me neither."

The younger man nodded, sliding off his lap and sitting on the coffee table. "I guess we just make it up as we go along?"

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "You're the anthropologist... adapting to new cultures is what you do."

"And you're the team leader," Daniel replied. "Changing tactics to fit the circumstances is what _you_ do."

"You're saying we'll be all right?"

Daniel smiled again. "We'll figure it out." He stood up, walking over to the chair and grabbing his jacket.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to my place," he answered.

"You're not going to stay the night?"

He shook his head. "I need to finish that translation from P3X-439 tomorrow morning, and I know you weren't planning to be in until later."

Jack blinked. "Doesn't mean you can't stay here."

"Ah, but if I stay here, you'll never get that crossword puzzle finished for Sam."

"Crap. I'd forgotten about that thing." What had ever possessed him to agree to the science geek version of a crossword puzzle anyway? Oh, now he remembered... he'd been too busy staring at Daniel to pay attention to what Carter was saying. "See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," Daniel replied. "Any good games on?"

Jack shrugged. "Lacrosse, maybe?"

Daniel laughed and walked out the front door. As Jack leaned against the door frame and watched his friend back out of the driveway, he realized that tomorrow would be a new chapter in his and Daniel's lives. The younger man would ostensibly come over for another beer-and-sports night, but in truth they would begin to define their new relationship.

Closing the front door, Jack smiled to himself. Tomorrow was sure to be an interesting day.

* * *

Author's Notes:  
I've been wanting to do one of these for a while now... glad I finally got _one_ of my many plot bunnies squared away! As always, thanks to Nyx Ro for being my cheerleader.

Jack was no stranger to having Daniel stare at him like he'd grown an extra head. Jack with the extra head that is, not Daniel... just in case that wasn't clear. In fact, the "gaping fish" impression made its appearance nearly every time Jack vocalized one of his more peculiar inanities or-even more rare-displayed a propensity for being garrulous and polysyllabic.  
That is to say, every time he rambled on with a bunch of big words he not only used properly, but could also define. Actually, Daniel had already become aware of Jack's extensive yet habitually-obscured vocabulary after he'd caught the colonel finishing the Sunday crossword without referencing a dictionary. Jack was pretty sure the usual application of the expression was for the benefit of Carter, Teal'c, or any other on-lookers.  
Dumb-founded. Now there was a word to describe the look on Daniel's face, even if it wasn't all that terribly complex a term. "Astonished" wouldn't really work, because astonishment implied surprise in a "oh for me? You shouldn't have" type way, whereas Daniel's current state of... bewilderment... was more like "since when the hell did you decide this?"  
And the answer to that was this morning: that's when it all started.  
Scratch that, it all "started" about eight years back when a certain long-haired geek innocently trashed nearly seventy years' hard work by re-writing an entire blackboard of translations in less than a minute. Jack had almost hated shutting down Catherine Langford's little archaeological Disneyland, if only so he could see what the sneezing genius would make of the great big metal sinkhole the government had been tossing money into off-and-on for more than fifty years.  
Almost. It'd been far too fun to watch Doctors Snore and Sneer squirm when they realized that the gag order on the project meant their butts were on the line if they blabbed. And darn if that four-eyed brainiac hadn't gone and figured out the purpose of all the squiggles on that big piece of rock in less than two weeks. Jack had to go and take a long drag on his cigarette to keep from laughing at all the dumb-struck faces on the assembled brass in the briefing room.  
He couldn't ruin his well-groomed, suicidal hard-ass image by pitching a giggle in front of everyone, after all.  
Of course, showing everyone what a brilliant mind he had was the least of the crimes of which Daniel could be accused. One of the most heinous acts was when the skinny pacifist bawled him out for packing a nuke along like a planet-sized cyanide pill, then proceeded to throw himself in front of the staff blast that was supposed to have put Jack out of his misery for good.  
Instead, Jack wound up even more miserable, shivering away the night in waist-deep water and wondering what on Earth or any other planet he'd ever done to deserve having his own pathetic life saved at the cost of yet another innocent. Lo-and-behold if the geek hadn't then gone and pulled another rabbit out of his hat and wound up saving Jack's wretched self again by coming back from the dead and taking a poorly-aimed but symbolically effective pot-shot at the over-dressed pedophile claiming to be the local sun god.  
Of course that wasn't the half of it. After nearly choking to death in a dust storm-and boy, didn't that bring back some pleasant memories of Iraq?-said genius then proceeded to castigate Jack for his pernicious behavior. And darn if Jack hadn't suddenly felt guilty that he'd come to this oh-so-lovely pile of dirt light-years away from terra cognita to blow up his own sorry self and anyone unlucky enough to be within a few miles of the blast radius.  
Or a few hundred miles, given the amount of naquadah in the soil. Heck, he might've taken the whole planet with him, and wouldn't that have been a kick in the pants?  
End result, the heroic geek showed everyone that a core of steel lay under that seemingly benign and bumbling exterior, then proceeded to save the world, kill the bad guy, and get the girl of his dreams-and not necessarily in that order. Jack left Abydos with a new outlook on life, thanks to one poorly-socialized orphan who'd finally found a family millions of miles from the planet of his birth.  
Admittedly, there wasn't much to go on from those hectic few days on Abydos, but he certainly should have realized something was different when he found divorce papers but no Sara waiting for him at home, and didn't really mind all that much. Well, he missed her like hell, for sure, but it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Instead of dwelling on her absence, he spent the next fourteen months of his re-retirement staring through his telescope at the night sky, trying to figure out which of those tiny points of light shone down on Abydos.  
Clue number two should have been how anxious he was-inwardly only, of course-to see if Daniel and the Abydonians were still safe after the 'Gate room got trashed by what later turned out to be Apophis and his Merry Band of Jaffa. So relieved was he to see them well, he had to cover for his near-slip by brushing past Daniel to hug Skaara half to death.  
Clue the third should have been when he decided to take the wayward waif back to his house after the kidnapping of Sha're and Skaara. He'd fed Daniel and gave him beer, clothes, the spare bed to sleep in, and a lift back to the base, all just as naturally as breathing.  
Clues four through five million came over the next seven years, as Daniel became an integral part of his team, social calendar, and personal life. After the appendix scare, in which Jack discovered Daniel could nearly die on him even in the relative safety of the SGC, the admittedly pig-headed colonel started pushing away his pal, fearful of how important the younger man had become to Jack's own existence. Losing him in battle with some alien enemies wasn't half as frightening as having him slip away on good ol' Mother Earth because his own body rebelled against a vestigial organ. After all, if they were fighting aliens, there was a good chance Jack was going down fighting, too.  
So Jack pushed, Daniel pushed back, and next thing they know, Daniel's putting a hand on his shoulder in what looked like a bad re-make of a Touched by an Angel episode and telling him he's ready to throw in the towel. A year later, Jack was set to hug the shit out of his recently-descended friend, only to find out "Arrom" didn't remember a blasted thing, let alone who Jack was or what all they'd been through together. It was easier to keep the cordial distance, then, rather than fighting tooth-and-nail to get Daniel comfortably resituated as the absolute best friend he'd ever had in this world or the next.  
That all changed this morning.  
Daniel spent the night over at his house because he'd had one beer too many the evening before and everyone knew it didn't take much alcohol to make him giddy. They ate a cold breakfast together, Jack slurping up his Cocoa Puffs and Daniel crunching on the Froot Loops Jack had once jokingly promised was the amnesiac archaeologist's favorite cereal. Whether he never remembered otherwise, ate them to humor Jack, or simply decided he liked them after all, Jack would probably never know.  
The whole reason Jack had dragged him out of the Mountain the night before was because Daniel was working entirely too hard on a translation from SG-2's recent mission to P3-who-the-hell-cares and needed a brain break... Colonel O'Neill to the rescue! Truth be known, he'd been trying to find a good excuse to get Daniel to stop moping around about the lives he couldn't save-Janet and that weird Goa'uld hybrid, for starters-and just relax for a few hours with his best buddy in the whole wide world, whose life he had saved time and time again.  
But the sneak had managed to slip his translation project out with him, and had tried working on it during the Colorado Crush versus Nashville Kats game. As if it wasn't bad enough Jack was forced to watch arena football instead of his beloved NHL-whose season was cancelled due to labor union disputes-here was Daniel whiling away the evening doing exactly what Jack had dragged him out of his office to keep from doing! After he rather vocally threatened the younger man with severe bodily harm (which rapidly degenerated to out-and-out wheedling, if he was honest), Daniel agreed to put the translation away for the rest of the night and get positively plastered.  
The most annoying thing was, Daniel rarely ever got a hangover-probably because he couldn't down enough booze to dehydrate-so there he was at six in the morning, poring over his translation between spoonfuls of sugar-coated corn puff rings. Jack couldn't argue, either, as he had promised Daniel could play with his squiggles again in the morning, and all subsequent attempts at distraction were failing. Slurping the milk off his spoon hadn't produced so much as twitch from the concentrating linguist.  
And concentrating he was! His expressive brows were furrowed, creating tiny lines of tension in the middle of his forehead while he thought hard about whatever it was linguists thought about when they did their... thing. Jack briefly thought about throwing a Cocoa Puff at him to see if that could distract him, as Daniel was still frowning at the photos and looking all hot and bothered.  
That's when it hit him. Bothered wasn't necessarily a good look for Daniel, but he'd always been hot.  
Whoa, Nellie! What a revelation that was! He'd just celebrated his fifty-second birthday only a few months back, and the eight-year anniversary of the dissolution of his fifteen-year marriage a month before that, yet here he was kissing his heretofore irrefutable heterosexuality goodbye. One would think he'd have been freaked out that not only was he suddenly very appreciative of Daniel's physical attributes, but that he was also going through some sort of mid-life sexual-identity crisis. To be perfectly honest, he probably would have had difficulty with the idea if it had been some stranger he was lusting over and not his abso-friggin'-lutely hot teammate-slash-best friend.  
Which got him to wondering why in the world it was Daniel and not his leggy-blonde 2IC suddenly starring in all his wildest fantasies-not that he'd time for many such delusions during breakfast. That's when he realized there was simply no way he could convince himself it was Carter he'd been longing for, Carter's brilliant blue eyes he kept getting lost in, and Carter's luscious lips he watched raptly in briefings.  
Nope. Startling revelation now out of the bag like the proverbial cat, he spent the rest of the meal lost in his own mental meanderings, wondering just when it was the big honkin' Clue Bus ran him over and why it'd taken so long to feel the impact. The tables had been quite firmly about-faced, so it was a concerned Daniel who asked him what had him thinking so hard he looked like he was passing a kidney stone.  
Rather than admitting he was starting to get licentious notions about his undeniably masculine teammate, Jack prevaricated with a Teal'c-inspired "indeed". Daniel didn't believe him for a second, but let it slide... for the moment.  
That, Jack realized, was another thing that separated Daniel from Carter. Besides possessing a complete inability to call Sa-Carter by her given name, he had no problems slipping a little white one by her now and then. She never called him on it if she noticed, simply because she was a good little soldier who did what her commanding officer told her to do. On the flip-side, Daniel was one hell of a warrior, but a crappy soldier when it came to following orders. He was also renowned for his ability to ignore minor untruths until the perfect opportunity to pounce upon and vivisect said lie presented itself.  
Basically, a man after his own heart... and now Jack was after his ass.  
Which brought him to his present situation. After all the meetings, briefings, and reports were finished for the day, Jack had collected his errant archaeologist once again, this time claiming the evening's Air Force Academy/San Diego State basketball match was not-to-be-missed. He really should have realized Daniel gave in far too easily, but was too ecstatic about spending two nights in a row in the company of his favorite eye candy.  
The sneaky civilian waited until his colonel was thoroughly plied with his fourth beer of the evening before calling Jack on the carpet over his obvious ogling. Well, he didn't call it ogling, but Jack had to admit to himself that that's what he'd been doing. Every time he thought Daniel wasn't looking, Jack was sneaking two eyefuls of long, lean linguist. Sleek muscles, slim hips, and the sweetest ass on this plane of existence, Doctor Daniel Jackson was all that and a bag of chips-probably that fancy kind made of weird-colored potatoes and tubers that cost an arm and a leg. They had an exotic flavor the first time he'd tried them, but boy were they addictive.  
So was Daniel. When you matched up the gorgeous body with the faster-than-light brain that could fly a hundred circles around Jack before he'd even finished his pre-flight checks, it was no wonder half the galaxy kept trying to get into his pants. Only problem was, Daniel had noticed Jack noticing, and at half-time, stole the remote off the coffee table, pressed the 'mute' button, and turned to face his commanding officer. "What's up?" he asked.  
"What do you mean, what's up?"  
Daniel gave him his best "I know you better than that, Jack, so stop being an ass" look. "Okay... for starters, you zoned out at breakfast this morning-"  
"How would you know? You were busy with those pictures from P3X-302-"  
"P3X-439," Daniel corrected automatically, "and I looked up when you stopped slurping your milk to see you holding a Cocoa Puff in your hand like you were about to throw it at me."  
Busted. "So?"  
"So, you just sat there for a little bit until I made the kidney stone comment-"  
Oops. He'd forgotten about that.  
"-tried to impersonate Teal'c to get out of talking about it. Now, not wanting to make us both late to the mountain-"  
Since when?  
"-to let it slide at the time. Then you were staring at me in our briefing this morning-"  
No, he'd been staring at Daniel's lips while the younger man yammered on about the indigenous proto-something-or-anothers on their mission the week before, wondering what it'd be like to devour that mouth and stick his tongue down Daniel's throat. Then, when the linguist got up to fiddle with the PowerPoint projector, Jack had shifted his attention to Daniel's shapely ass and thought all sorts of dirty things about what he'd like to do to it.  
"-looking at me tonight, which brings me back to my question: what's up?"  
"Damn, you're hot," Jack answered stupidly, which is what earned him the aforementioned dumbfounded expression.  
Frankly, it was a cute look for him.  
"What?" Daniel managed after coughing to clear his throat.  
Open mouth, insert foot... in for a penny, in for a pound... talk about your Freudian slips! And Daniel wouldn't be Daniel if he didn't make Jack answer, so there was simply no use in dragging it out further or denying it. "You're hot," he repeated, still trying to get his rather uncooperative brain to connect with his equally unruly mouth.  
"'Hot' as in 'turn on the air conditioner' or 'hot' as in 'feverish'?"  
"'Hot' as in 'my libido doesn't need a little blue pill to wake up Mr. Happy'."  
Daniel's eyebrows were about ready to merge with his hairline. "What?"  
"You heard me."  
"How many beers have you had?" he asked suspiciously.  
"You know damn well it takes more than three beers to get-"  
"That's your fourth."  
"Fine. But it also takes more than four beers to get me more than just a buzz, Daniel."  
"So you think I'm hot when you're 'buzzed'?"  
Jack blew out a puff of air. "I think you're hot when I'm sober, too."  
Daniel's eyebrows did another dance. "Really."  
"Yeah."  
"And when did you come to that decision?"  
"Uh... this morning?"  
Daniel rolled his eyes heavenward. "No wonder you couldn't concentrate on your cereal," he remarked sarcastically.  
"As a matter of fact," Jack began, lifting his chin with a mock-haughty air, "I was busy trying to figure out why it took me so damn long to put it all together."  
"Put together what?"  
"Are you being deliberately obtuse or do you just not have a frickin' clue?"  
Daniel's nostrils flared. "What the hell are you talking about, Jack?"  
Actions spoke louder than words, and Jack had always been a man of action. Rather than trying to continue to work his mouth around his admittedly alcohol-fuzzed brain, he stood up from the couch, crossed the room in two strides, and put his mouth to work a totally different way.  
That sweet, soft mouth was everything he'd ever thought it would be, and the only reason he pulled away at all was because he did need to breathe. He let his hands stay cupped around Daniel's strong jaw, though, gazing into the dazed and confused eyes. "How's that for an answer?"  
"What?"  
Deciding Daniel needed a refresher, he swooped in and kissed him again. This time, Daniel's hands came up, palms resting against Jack's chest as though to push him away, only he never applied any pressure. When Jack finally came up for air, he curled his fingers around the younger man's wrists. "I spent all damn morning trying to figure out why it took me so long to realize how incredibly sexy you are."  
"Sexy?"  
"Incredibly," Jack confirmed. "Now I'm trying to decide if the first time I subconsciously noticed was when you showed up Doctors Shrew and Fryer or when you did the same thing to West and the brass."  
"Shore and Meyers," Daniel corrected automatically. "Wait a second, I thought you said this morning-"  
"-Was the first time I realized I'd been noticing your gorgeous self in a totally non-platonic way," Jack finished.  
"Gorgeous?"  
"Fishing for compliments again?" the colonel grinned. Daniel's mouth snapped shut and pulled his hands free of Jack's loose grip. "You're handling this surprisingly well, Doctor Jackson."  
"That's because you really haven't given me any time to think about it, Colonel O'Neill. What made you think I'd be receptive to-you know-"  
"Me kissing you? I dunno. I guess I figured if you didn't like it you could haul off and punch me." He held up his hands in mock-surrender. "You're not going to punch me, are you?"  
Daniel's brows knitted. "I haven't decided yet."  
"Uh-oh. Do me a favor and warn me first, okay?" Jack grinned, crossing back to the couch and flopping down heavily.  
"Like you warned me before you, uh-"  
"Kissed you?" Jack finished, taking a swig from his beer. "Seemed like you didn't mind."  
"Well, like I said, I haven't really had time to process." Shaking his head, he picked up the remote again, restoring the sound just in time for the start of the second half.  
Jack could care less about the game. After all, he'd just admitted to his male best friend that he was in lust with him, and probably not that far gone from being in love with him. He'd loved Daniel for a long time, but there were light years of difference between loving and being in love. He loved Carter and Teal'c too, but he wasn't in love with either of them like he very well could be with Daniel. Getting there, anyway.  
A quick glance at Daniel showed that the younger man wasn't paying much attention to the game, either. At the moment, he had his arms crossed in his tightest self-hug, and Jack nervously bit his lip at the implications. Either Daniel was seriously uncomfortable with the situation, or his brain and body were locked down while he thought over Jack's actions. If the latter, there was no telling where his mind would end up taking him.  
Sighing, Jack took another long pull from his beer bottle, draining the last drops. If kissing him made Daniel uncomfortable, he only hoped it wouldn't affect the way they worked together in the field. He'd already tried SG-1 without Daniel, and if it came down to it, Jack would retire again, rather than face the prospect of losing him from his team. The Stargate program was Daniel's life, death, and everything in between, and Jack would not put himself in the way.  
On the flip side, if his feelings were reciprocated... well, if not for "don't ask, don't tell", he would climb atop Cheyenne Mountain and let all of Colorado Springs know what a lucky guy Jack O'Neill was.  
The flash of the TV being turned off was the only warning he had. Suddenly, a firm weight was astride his thighs, callused hands on his jaw, and the sweetest lips in the known universe were on his own. His hands came up, resting on Daniel's hips as the cunning linguist-and how was that for a double-meaning?-proved what a truly talented tongue he possessed.  
When Daniel finally came up for air, his eyes were twinkling. "Sorry, I just had to make sure."  
"Make sure of what?"  
His face broke into a beautiful, gentle smile. "About you... and me."  
Jack's heart was turning cartwheels for joy. "So what now?"  
Daniel cocked his head to one side. "I don't know. I mean, I've never..."  
"Been in a relationship with a guy?"  
"Yeah."  
"Me neither."  
The younger man nodded, sliding off his lap and sitting on the coffee table. "I guess we just make it up as we go along?"  
"Yeah," Jack agreed. "You're the anthropologist... adapting to new cultures is what you do."  
"And you're the team leader," Daniel replied. "Changing tactics to fit the circumstances is what you do."  
"You're saying we'll be all right?"  
Daniel smiled again. "We'll figure it out." He stood up, walking over to the chair and grabbing his jacket.  
"Where are you going?"  
"Back to my place," he answered.  
"You're not going to stay the night?"  
He shook his head. "I need to finish that translation from P3X-439 tomorrow morning, and I know you weren't planning to be in until later."  
Jack blinked. "Doesn't mean you can't stay here."  
"Ah, but if I stay here, you'll never get that crossword puzzle finished for Sam."  
"Crap. I'd forgotten about that thing." What had ever possessed him to agree to the science geek version of a crossword puzzle anyway? Oh, now he remembered... he'd been too busy staring at Daniel to pay attention to what Carter was saying. "See you tomorrow."  
"See you tomorrow," Daniel replied. "Any good games on?"  
Jack shrugged. "Lacrosse, maybe?"  
Daniel laughed and walked out the front door. As Jack leaned against the door frame and watched his friend back out of the driveway, he realized that tomorrow would be a new chapter in his and Daniel's lives. The younger man would ostensibly come over for another beer-and-sports night, but in truth they would begin to define their new relationship.  
Closing the front door, Jack smiled to himself. Tomorrow was sure to be an interesting day.


End file.
